


You Look Good In Me

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Image, Bodyswap, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:59:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil get switched into each other's bodies! Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look Good In Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SummerOtaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerOtaku/gifts).



> Don't worry about Loki, he's just the foil that causes this to occur (and get fixed in the end). There's no gross surprise Loki anywhere in the fic.
> 
> Warning for Phil being kind of down about his own body. I didn't tag this body dysphoria or body horror as I don't think it's quite that extreme, he's just like, 'wow, Clint is so damn hot and I'm... a middleaged guy that's losing his hair'. Clint goes to some effort to express to Phil how hot he finds him :)
> 
> This was written as a gift for SummerOtaku as I believe it is her birthday today? It was a rushed write (wrote the whole thing today!) so it has not been betaed! Hopefully I caught everything but forgive me if not.

The alarm beeps and Phil inhales slowly as he wakes… but something’s wrong. He cracks open his eyes and blinks at the ceiling. He blinks some more. The ceiling looks weird. And the light fitting is in the wrong place - he’s on the wrong side of the bed. What happened last night?

 

Phil reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose and freezes mid movement. He looks at his hand. He looks at his other hand. When did his forearms have this much muscle and this little hair? He turns his hands over, the movement faster than it ought to be, somehow. These are not his hands, but Phil knows them almost as well as his own. These are Clint Barton’s hands.

 

“Phil?” Says a voice beside him, and Phil turns to find himself squinting at him.

“Clint?”

Phil... or apparently Clint Barton in Phil’s body, swears and springs away awkwardly, attempting some movement that Phil’s pretty sure isn’t supposed to result in him tangled in sheets and sprawled on the floor.

“Ow!” he says, and Phil moves then, movements easy and light, to peer over the edge of the bed at himself rubbing his chest with one hand and waving the other in front of his face, back and forth as if trying to focus.

“Here,” Phil says, grabbing for the glasses on his usual side of the bed and almost crushing them as he hands them over. He feels huge and powerful. Clint must feel anything but.

 

Clint takes the glasses and puts them on, and Phil stares. He’s never observed himself like this before, and now he has the advantage of Clint’s eyes to see every crows foot and grey hair. It’s disarming to say the least.

 

With Phil’s glasses on, Phil’s face peers at him, with an expression that can only be Clint - wary but… an openness there too. Curiosity.

 

“You’re me and I’m you,” he says, and when Phil laughs - because what else is there to do? - it sounds like Clint. Of course it does.

 

“Looks that way,” he says. He holds out a hand and when Clint takes it and Phil hauls him up, the force he uses far outweighs what is required, and Clint practically flies in the air towards him. Clint ends up on top of him, and it’s weird looking into his own face. Clint must be thinking the same thing, because he frowns - marks in his forehead that Phil’s so familiar with - and says, “This is weird, huh?”

 

-

 

They get dressed in each others clothes, and Phil keeps changing because he feels practically pornographic in everything he tries on. Clint keeps turning and looking at his - Phil’s - butt in the full length mirror and running his hands over his - Phil’s - body til Phil stands behind him, takes his hands and says, “stop that.”

Clint looks at him in the mirror and Phil tries not to be distracted in the same way. He knows if Clint wasn’t here, he’d be doing much the same, exploring Clint’s body in ever more intimate ways. But he is here, and that feels... unseemly.

 

“C’mon boss”, Clint says in Phil’s voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna jerk off and see how it feels.”

“Aren’t you worried about…” Phil spreads his hands, forgetting his strength and casting them too widely, narrowly missing the wardrobe door. He pulls his hands back and tries to compose himself. Clint smiles at him fondly, and it’s nice in a strange sort of way, even if it is his own face looking at him like that. Clint moves closer, slipping his hands around Phil’s waist. It’s weird and incestuous on the one hand, but on the other… it’s still Clint.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Clint promises, and Phil sees the pores on his nose with Clint’s brilliant eyes. How could Clint look at this all day? “We’ll talk to Strange about it, or Thor, if we have to. Not like they don’t owe us one. Or, like, five.”

Phil puts his big, ungainly hands on Clint’s tiny, weak frame, wondering how anyone could choose him, marveling at the fact that Clint did when he could have anyone, and Clint smiles.

“I wanna kiss you but it seems weird cause it’s like… making out with myself.”

 

-

 

Turns out they aren’t the only ones. They make it up to the communal floor to find Pepper in Tony’s body and Tony in hers, which means she’s scowling and blushing behind Tony’s goatee whilst Tony’s wearing the highest heels and tiniest dress that Pepper owns and playing with her boobs.

“It’s probably Loki,” Pepper tells them, legs curled underneath herself where she’s turned away from Tony making eyes at himself in the mirror. “Thor and Jane have already gone to Asgard.”

“Jane’s in Thor’s body?” Clint asks, eyes sparkling. “And Thor’s in hers?”

“Right?!” Says Tony, turning and sashaying over to the couch, which he grips onto like he’s on ice skates. “It was kind of hilarious.”

“It’s not ‘hilarious’, Tony,” admonishes Pepper.

“It was a little bit hilarious,” he replies, attention already back on his chest.

 

-

 

“So we have 24, maybe 48 hours of this,” says Clint, once they’re back in their suite, having spoken with a very loud version of Jane in Thor’s body via the ’Asgard-Skype’ that Tony set up. “We should make the most of it.”

Phil wonders if his face has ever looked as mischievious as it does right now, or if Clint’s has ever looked so reproving as his own must do.

“And how do you want to do that?”

Clint raises an eyebrow and grins slowly. He comes closer and pushes at Phil til he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “The way I see it? We have things we usually do when we have 48 hours of shore leave.”

“‘Shore leave’?”

Clint shrugs, and it’s such a Clint move, even in the wrong body, and it makes Phil feel a tiny bit better.

 

“I don’t… really… wanna fuck myself,” admits Phil, and Clint, standing between his legs with his hands on Phil’s shoulders, laughs.

“But it’s me!”

“I know,” Phil replies, hands on Clint’s waist, his wrong-feeling, paunchy waist. “I-“

Clint shuts him up with a kiss. Phil’s taken aback at first, and it feels like he’s cheating, kissing another man like this, even though this is practically the opposite of cheating…

 

He forgets himself when Clint’s tongue starts licking its way around his mouth as possessively as always, and that’s the first bit of familiarity he’s had all day, even if Clint tastes different and feels strange under his strange hands. Clint taking his place like he belongs right here, like this is just how it’s supposed to be.

 

By the time they’re done, Phil’s on his back on the bed and Clint’s on all fours over him. grinning and flushed. And hard. Phil’s hard too, and as he looks down his body at the shape of Clint’s perfect cock jutting up from his own body, Clint brushes a hand over it and moans.

“What if we jerk off?” He suggests, still working his hand softly up and down. It sounds so reasonable, Phil thinks of his own voice. He can be pretty convincing when he wants to be.

 

“I wanna show you what I like about -“ Clint sits up on his knees and opens his arms - “This fine piece of ass.”

Phil laughs. “Alright,” he says, shaking his head.

 

-

 

“What are you planning on doing to me?” Phil asks, when he sees all the things Clint’s laid out on the bedside table. He’s not sure how he’s meant to get aroused by his own body even if it is Clint inside there. He’s not much to look at in comparison to Clint. In comparison to any of the superheroes they work with, really.

Clint shrugs as he turns around to face Phil, who he’s already bossed into lying on the bed and relinquishing his clothes. All Phil’s wearing is a purple jockstrap, which is apparently Clint’s favourite. He feels exposed and odd, but that’s nothing in comparison to the way Clint’s started stripping off the jeans and tshirt he put on before. Phil thinks that’s it, he’s going to do some kind of strip tease and then jerk off, but once he’s down to his underwear, he goes to Phil’s wardrobe and pulls out one of his suits.

 

“What are you doing?” Phil asks, but Clint ignores him, getting dressed so quickly it’s a wonder it takes him so long to get ready when they actually go out. Phil looks at himself in one of the many mirrored doors of the wardrobes lining one wall of the bedroom. Clint’s body is so beautiful, he almost feels bad about looking at himself with such lustfulness. He knows if he was Clint, he’d be hard pressed to ever stop jerking off in the mirror.

 

By the time he’s closed the wardrobe, Clint’s fully dressed in a suit and tie; he even has a pair of Phil’s leather shoes on. He’s grinning when he comes back to the bed, crossing his arms and biting his lip.

“I like when… you’re all dressed up like this,” he says, glancing over at himself in the mirror. “Makes me wanna mess you up.”

He turns to face the mirror and runs a hand down his front, over his tie. “You’re so hot like this,” he murmurs, and Phil watches him and then watches him in the mirror. He can see Clint’s half-hard in his pants again, just from this.

“And you do this thing where you-“ Clint shoots his cuffs and smiles. “like you’re James Bond or something.” He catches Phil’s eye in the mirror and bites his lip again. “You don’t even know, Phil, do you?”

“Know what?”

“How hot you are. And when you’re - when you’re gonna fuck me, I know before you’ve even loosened your tie, cause you get this set to your jaw, like-“ he tries to do it, just lifts his chin a little, really, and then grins.

“Do I do that?”

Clint turns to look him in the eye. “Hell yeah.” He seems to consider something for a second before swallowing and asking - telling, but asking too, “Undo my tie?”

 

Phil shifts up the bed and kneels to undo Clint’s tie, Clint’s eyes burning on him as he does it. It’s something they’ve done countless times before, in their own bodies. Clint puts his hands on Phil’s head, nails perfect when they scratch along his scalp like Phil so often does to Clint.

 

“Undo my shirt,” Clint says next, once his tie is loose around his neck. Phil does as he’s told, button by button undone, exposing his laughably fuzzy chest. He glances down at his own, hairless and perfect, wonders for the hundredth time why Clint prefers Phil to keep his own chest so… fluffy.

 

Clint pulls open the shirt and brushes his hands down his chest, through the hair and over the scar, which Phil’s always told him doesn’t hurt, though this is the first time he’s seen Clint touch it so easily.

“Love all this hair on your chest,” Clint says softly. “I know you don’t get it but I love it. I love that you keep it for me.”

He turns back to the mirror and watches his fingers running over his pectoral muscles.

Phil runs a hand up his own smooth chest and smiles. “I love that you wax for me,” he confesses, and Clint laughs, leaning down to kiss him again. It feels good, making out, but Phil’s not sure what he wants. But Clint’s clearly working up to something here, and he’s happy to see where it goes.

When Clint turns back to the mirror, he’s fully hard, cock a comical hardness under his wool suit pants. He turns and looks at it from the side and then the other side, glancing back at Phil a few times. “I like when you’re hard under your clothes,” he says, smiling. “Like knowing it was me who got you that way, and I like when you try to hide it.”

 

“I don’t try to hide it.”

“You do sometimes. When you’re in the office. Or on a mission. Or just in public and I do something dumb that for some reason turns you on. You get turned on when I do the dumbest stuff.”

Phil thinks about denying it, but it’s true. Even without his super-sight, Clint can see through Phil, always can.

 

Phil swallows. “What else?”

Clint starts unbuckling his belt, muted clink of metal on metal as he toys with it, listening. “That sound,” he says. “The sound of you undoing your belt.” He shivers.

He pulls the belt from its loops, hanging it over the back of a chair before shucking off his jacket. He steps out of his shoes, standing on the heel of one to get it off, something Phil never does, a move that’s all Clint. It makes Phil sigh happily. His Clint.

 

Clint comes back to the bed to stand infront of the mirror again. He undoes the button on the top of his pants and then slowly unzips before pulling his dick free. Phil finds that he’s salivating, which is weird and wrong - he’s not turned on by himself… But Clint is so turned on, looks harder than Phil’s ever been... He wants to suck Clint’s cock even if it is his own, anything for Clint.

 

“Love your dick,” says Clint, hand sure on himself. He lets his pants fall to the floor and kicks them away, another Clint move that makes Phil ache for him. Clint fists his cock with one hand and reaches down with the other to fondle his balls, and Phil knows so intimately how that feels, how much he loves when Clint touches his balls that he can’t not reach out and touch too, soothe his palm over their skin the way he’s always liked. Clint moans and laughs at the same time, breathy and pleased, and Phil knows exactly how to make him feel good in this body, knows exactly what feels right.

 

“Can I?” Phil asks quietly, “Just-“

“Sure,” says Clint. “Please.”

 

Thing is, usually Phil doesn’t really do a lot on his knees for Clint. Not because he doesn’t like it, though it’s always seemed like Clint’s more into it than he is, but Phil’s knees aren’t so good, he doesn’t have quite the core strength to stay where he needs to be for so long, but now…

Phil slips to the floor and kneels, closing his eyes because his own dick is longer and thinner than Clint’s and it doesn’t feel familiar in his mouth, but with his eyes closed it doesn’t feel so wrong. Besides, it feels just right to have his hand on Clint’s wonderfully familiar cock, to feel how good it is to fondle those balls and drag his fist loosely over the head.

 

When Phil risks a look up, Clint’s looking in the mirror, at himself, at Phil’s body like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Phil pulls off to look at himself, lips spit-wet and shining, thigh muscles taut from the way he’s kneeling, perfectly accentuated by the stripe of purple from the jockstrap that makes him look like a gift, wrapped up and ready. He’s never looked in a mirror and been turned on by what he sees before, but it’s not him, it’s Clint, his perfect beautiful lover that’s looking back at him, and Clint’s looking at him from his own body too, an odd spiral of possession and lust and masturbatory fantasy.

 

“You should fuck me,” says Phil, and maybe he’ll keep his eyes closed, but he wants to know how it feels, wants to know what it is that makes Clint love it so much. “I want to know.”

“Yeah?”

Phil leans in and rubs a cheek against the soft fur of Clint’s thigh. His own thigh. And presses a kiss next to his groin where Phil knows it’ll feel perfect.

 

-

 

“You sure about this?” Clint says, having watched Phil lube himself up, fingers pushing inside himself as impatiently as Clint’s usually are. He feels like he needs this now, like his body craves it, and he’s just giving it what he needs. As if he’s merely a host and there are things he must do to appease it.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, fingers twitching as he slips them out, unsure of what to do next. “Should I turn over?”

Clint looks him over before sheepishly answering, “If you want.”

Phil nods. “Ok,” he says, turning over onto his hands and knees and curving his back easily, sticking out his ass the way he’s watched Clint do countless times.

“Haven’t topped in forever,” Clint says behind him, and Phil suppresses a shiver. Maybe Clint feels like he needs this too, in this new body. “Let me know if I hurt you or anything.”

“You won’t,” Phil says, sure somehow that Clint couldn’t possibly hurt him.

 

Clint eases into him, and it’s been so long - they do this sometimes but not in forever, but it feels so right to have Clint there, even if it is in a different body with a different voice. Different hands come down to brush over Phil’s chest and thumb over his nipples, and Phil gasps with pleasure at the bright thrill of sensation that brings. His own nipples don’t do much for him, but these feel like they’re wired to his cock, to the pleasure centre of his brain. Phil grabs for Clint’s hands when they move away, pulling first one then the other back to those little buttons of pleasure.

“You like that, huh?”

“Yes,” Phil gasps, squirming beneath Clint as Clint pinches and pulls at them expertly. “Oh, yes.”

A kiss is pressed into the back of Phil’s neck, and when Clint moves, Phil feels like he’s a fire being stoked from the inside.

 

Clint’s a weight on Phil’s back, but it’s an easy weight, a comfort if anything, and he moves just enough to keep Phil filled up and tingling with so much pleasure it’s almost too much. This is how it feels for Clint? This is how good it is?

“Fuck,” Clint murmurs from behind Phil, somewhere far away and soft. “So goddamn tight. But you open up so easy for me…” He thrusts a few times, cock unerringly ratcheting Phil up from the inside out. “Never knew how hot my ass was.”

 

Phil gasps in laughter, reaching back to slap at Clint’s thigh where it’s pressed to the back of his own. Clint catches his wrist and squeezes before moving it to the small of Phil’s back, unbalancing him til his face is pressed into the pillows. Phil can feel how easily he could slip out of Clint’s grip with his superior strength, but he doesn’t want to. This is like being held, as perfect as anything. Clint doesn’t let go, keeping him there the way Phil keeps him where he wants with these easy movements, and he feels loved and wanted and cherished even with his face pressed into the bed. It’s better this way - he can forget the oddity of their arrangement and float on the sensation of being claimed and marked so well.

 

Phil doesn’t know when Clint comes, mind floating elsewhere til Clint’s grip on his hips tightens as he gasps out the last of his release. He sounds the way he always does when he comes, like it’s a surprise and a blessing all at once, as if he never thought such a thing could come to pass. Phil’s usually quieter when he comes, but Clint pulls out and flips him over, teasing at Phil’s nipples and mouthing at the head of his cock for no time at all before Phil grabs at his shoulder and comes with a bitten off cry.

 

Phil looks up at the ceiling as Clint keeps kissing him, wet kisses all over his dick, his balls and his thighs. Grinning, he creeps upwards til hot breath whispers over Phil’s nipples again, and Phil makes a weak noise that Clint ignores in favour of licking a broad stripe over one of them to make Phil shudder.

 

He growls and rolls til he’s pinning Clint down, body laughably weak in comparison to the one Phil’s getting more and more used to. Sure, Phil has some moves, tactical and clever as opposed to Clint’s brute force and agility, but this body has weight and strength, and of course it’s strange, but it feels good to know he can hold onto Clint like this, keep him safe like he needs to.

 

“When we get back to normal,” Phil says, looking down on his own face with Clint’s expression of sated goofiness on it. “We’re gonna be trying some things.”

Clint grins up at him and tries for a kiss, but Phil dodges it easily before relenting. It feels pretty damn good when he doesn’t think too hard about it.

 

-

 

Loki rolls his eyes when Thor, in Jane Foster’s tiny body (holding Mjolnir, which looks about a third the size of her) puts his hands on his hips. “Do not try anything, Loki,” he says in Jane’s little voice, “You know what you’re here for.”

“Did you all not enjoy your time in each other’s skin?” Loki says, flinching when Jane and Tony step forward in their respective ‘other skins’. Tony’s wearing the suit he made for Pepper, and Jane’s in Thor’s armour, helmet and all. Phil and Clint are holding hands and sitting beside one another in their usual SHIELD-wear, Clint in one of Phil’s suits (which is a distraction, now) and Phil in Clint’s SHIELD uniform (a distraction all its own). They’re all kind of standing there waiting for Loki to do something grand, but in the end, with nothing more than a sigh, he just waves a hand and they’re back to normal.

 

Phil feels heavy and weak suddenly, having finally grown used to the power of Clint’s muscles. He feels like he can barely see, but his hearing feels louder than it has in days. Clint’s hand is still gripped in his, and it feels so much better with the calluses and knobbly joints Phil loves so dearly.

 

Everyone’s hugging, plans are being made for Loki’s return to Asgard, Tony’s already making drinks, but Clint’s smiling at Phil for the first time in days and Phil can’t see or hear much of anything else.

“Hi,” Says Phil, voice sounding right at last, and he strokes his thumb along the edge of Clint’s jaw. “I really missed you.”

“Missed you too,” replies Clint, leaning in for a kiss that finally feels perfect.

 

-

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
